“So, no touching, nothing. You just want us to watch.”“Yes, although you’ll have to touch me a little when you cuff me.”I was breathing hard...by now, knowing that I was obviously turned on. Breasts heaving, nipples poking through my top. Face flushed. At least they couldn’t see the wet patch on my plain cotton panties.Jake very carefully, under the watchful eye of his girlfriend, cuffed my wrists together behind the aspen, leaving me with my back pressed against the papery white bark.And then,. My husband did not romance me, he did not even feel the need to give me small intimate touches that his son would do years later. It was shocking as well as oddly thrilling to be receiving such attention now, so late in life. The fact that these touches are now coming from my own child seemed to enhance the delicious torrent of passion so obviously left dormant in my life to date.Perhaps my inability to stop these small acts lead to my son risking all to go further - finding his mother innocent. More

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